


his dark world aches for a splash of the sun

by shecouldbeamazing



Series: doctor who drabbles [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Basically, Feels, GAHG;ALSGH, Gen, JUST, Spoilers for Series 7, doctor who series 7, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shecouldbeamazing/pseuds/shecouldbeamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hates endings. Despised, revolted, dreaded, abhorred, disdained, loathed- mere words couldn’t convey just how much. He runs from them, broods over them, tries to move on, but gets stuck- gets stuck on a cloud in Victorian London until an impossible girl in a red dress comes and rescues him with her curiosity and determination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his dark world aches for a splash of the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote after composing myself after the doctor who finale. There's not really a plot. Just a bunch of feelings I put into words.

He hates endings. Despised, revolted, dreaded, abhorred, disdained, loathed- mere words couldn’t convey just how much. He runs from them, broods over them, tries to move on, but gets stuck- gets stuck on a cloud in Victorian London until an impossible girl in a red dress comes and rescues him with her curiosity and determination.

And then she disappears into the wind, just like all the others. But he chases after her, trying so hard to get swept into the storm. He buries the words pond and river and romans deep into the ground where no stray thoughts would dig them up and runs after her. Embraces the mystery that is Clara. Soufflé girl. The impossible one. Just Clara. He lives, breathes, eats, sleeps, even dreams of her because she’s all he has going for him these days. She doesn’t make sense. And he adores it. A break in the monotony. Stable ground he can stand on in the middle of the moors. He finds her and he rescues her this time and then he’s running again. The running could never be the same, could never feel the same as it did with Amy or Rory or…River. It never did with new companions, but Clara is no stranger to loss and she takes care of him like one of her own.

But she never stays. Of course she doesn’t. He shouldn’t expect her to drop everything and come with him. So every Wednesday they go and adventure. He sees her off and flies away, promising he’ll be back the next week. She goes on with her life and he skips ahead. The Doctor doesn’t wait and, these days, waiting was impossible. He was afraid if he ever stopped, then he would break. So he fast forwards through time and burns through his days with Clara like wildfire. As if she were oxygen fueling the flame.

He wonders if she ever notices that he never looks different or if she can tell he’s never rested. If she does, she never mentions it.

He’s determined to figure her out and fill her book with memories, but Clara herself is never allowed a glimpse at his past. Once she’d opened the door he’d closed it on her. His name dissolved into dust and she forgot.

They run for what seems like forever. But even the Doctor can’t run forever. Everything ends. All lives. All worlds. All universes. And all hearts are broken in some way or another.

And he finds that he knows that truth better than anyone else. Never dying- that was his curse. Watching everyone around him age and mature, grow tired of him or leave without him being able to change a thing, it was enough to make anyone crazy and he had passed that point long ago. And as he stared at River Song, at the end of it all, he’s never hated the universe more for letting him get this far.

He never told Clara who River really was. He never talked to her about his stint in Victorian London or about the Asylum. He doesn’t really say much. Secrets keep us safe and he’d told it to himself enough times that he thought it was true. But secrets were dangerous if left alone. They could destroy people, and they’ve certainly done a number on him.

She was always Professor Song and not River Song. Always a title, never a person. It was his way of coping, his way of separating the hurt from the memories haunting his every step.

But there was no separating her now. She was here. She was here.

And at the same time, she was not.

He’d never told River goodbye. Goodbyes were final and finality was something he couldn’t face. How could he? And now here in his tomb he was expected to let go of everything. He knew who Clara was now and who all those Claras he’d met before were. They were copies. Merely other versions of the girl he knew.

So that’s how he makes himself see River. She’s only a ghost. A memory. An echo. But that doesn’t stop him kissing her one last time, touching her, seeing her, speaking to her.

He could see it in her eyes. She loved him and didn’t want to leave and that cuts him like a knife and leaves a scar on his hearts. But they had to say goodbye. Otherwise they would haunt each other forever.

Trenzalore is where he’ll end up. He knows how it ends. And this is where they end.

He gives River the peace she deserves.

And says goodbye.

When she fades, he fears it’s for forever.

(He was right of course.)

But in life there is a time for everything. Even a time to sleep. And that’s where she was. Sleeping.

And if he closed his eyes, she would be there. She was always there to him. Just like everyone else.

So he takes hold of Clara’s hand and he runs. Every day, the number of ghosts chasing him grows and the nightmares keep him awake at night. Memories, new and old, are all that keep him going. He knows how the story starts and he knows how it ends. The days he has are numbered now, but he refuses to let it get to him.

Just don’t stop running, he tells himself. Because when you do, that’s when it all ends.

And, perhaps, it will.


End file.
